The Shadow and the Ninja Mother
by ParadoxPeak
Summary: Scathach is found by her mother, who is looking for reconciliation, but Scathach is not ready for that. This takes place long after the events of the Flamel series. Nicholas is long dead, and Perenelle just committed suicide in order to destroy the final summoning. Written just before the publication of The Warlock.


In the shadows lay what appeared to be a middle-aged woman. Copper brown hair swirled dramatically around her head, but obviously had once been clipped neatly- before she'd met the creature guarding the entrance to Mars Ultor's shadowrealm.

All at once, the woman's mind sparked on-almost as if, for just a few seconds, she hadn't been alive… Her eyelids flickered open as she tried to push the dark thoughts from her mind, revealing clear blue eyes. She needed to get back to business. She had a mission.

The woman pushed herself up, re-clipped her hair, and brushed herself off, looking around nonchalantly. As her gaze drifted downward, she suddenly jerked and gasped.

"Oh dear, did I do that?" Lying on the soggy ground was the bloodstained body of a terrifying beast. She inhaled sharply as memories flooded into her mind_…of a terrible winged creature lunging at her…she instinctively side stepped the incoming monster, but long, thin claws scraped by, ripping through her flesh and leaving a stinging bloody gash. In one swift motion, she slid a long, sharp blade from her belt, and sliced through the creature as it flew by again…blood splattered the ground, but she couldn't tell whose it was…agonized shrieks filled the air…again, teeth and talons met flesh, and both woman and monster howled in pain, fury, and fear. She fell to the ground, still gripping her sword slashing through the air with it until the point dug into something…more screams arose…the woman thrust the sword in deeper, and the screams thickened…scrambling to her feet, she made her final move, springing forward and driving the sword through the temporarily weakened monster's chest…It gasped desperately… red and translucent fluids poured from the open wounds…then she suddenly fell into the soggy earth…and then the world was complete darkness and pain… _

The memories faded to gray, and she exhaled a shuddering breath as she returned to present self. Fresh crimson blood was smeared across her face, and her once crisp clean clothes were tattered and dirty. Then she looked back at the dead animal, and her jaw dropped.

"Harpies…_Oh_…Mars hired a Harpy." The look on the woman's pale face was nothing short of terror. "A Harpy…" her whispering voice faded to silence.

Moving slowly and warily, she stepped toward the motionless Harpy and knelt, letting her hair hang just millimeters from the monster's body. She seriously doubted that anyone had survived an encounter with one of the Harpies in the last millennia, but tried not to dwell on the fact, aware that her thoughts were nearing pride. She had killed a harpy! She bent down closer to examine the creature.

Its head was that of a terrifyingly beautiful woman with dark blue and black makeup around glassy black eyes that reminded her of the ancient Egyptian queens. But even the head, which was human enough in concept, had a hawk like appearance that, even in death, sent shivers running down her on-looking killer's spine.

The rest of the creature was simply…horrifying. The torso was covered in sleek black fur, and had muscles like a cat, but sapphire peacock feathers flowed out behind, and the forelegs were more human than cat, and were tipped with dagger-like talons.

The curly haired woman stepped further into the thick foliage, not even noticing when her maroon shirt snagged on long, thick thorns, making tiny tears in the fabric.

With a quiet '_Ah!'_ she reached down to pick something up. It was a dagger_, _thin and pointed, and shining with scarlet blood. She drew the blade over her shirt, leaving the metal closer to its original silver. Tucking the weapon into her belt, she dove into thorns, once again a woman on a mission.

"Scathach! Scathach_! Scathach…_!"

Scathach drew two swords from the sheaths on her back and crossed them over her chest. Her freckled face was dangerously calm; the planes and angles stood out dark and dangerous. Scathach was no human being; she was the Shadow, The King Maker, The Warrior Maiden, and the Vimana Killer. Scathach smiled, and the points of her jagged teeth stood out menacingly. This battle would be easily won, and she was already ahead; the snap of the trap at the shadowrealm's entrance had put the score at 1-0.

Mars had set the trap years ago, when he first created his world. He had never told Scathach what exactly it would do to unwanted Elders, but she had a good idea of the damage it would do. She waited for screams or another crash- But it didn't come. Only a whisper of a voice was carried on the wind.

"…_Scathach…Scathach…"_

She shuddered. No…there was only silence here…but then what was that…?

_"Scathach…Scatty!"_

Scathach shook her head decisively. No one knew she was here! It couldn't be anything more than the wind!

"Well then, I'll just go _find _the intruder!" The Warrior murmured. She ran towards the place where she'd heard the sounds. Someone was going to pay.

The warrior stepped into the hoary moonlight, her face twisted in a savage snarl, her olive eyes suddenly dark. Scathach inhaled deeply.

"_Cinnamon!" _Yes, it was definitely cinnamon, the scent that the Shadow had hoped never to smell again. But here it was…here _she _was. She raised her swords and dove into thorny shrubbery, a war cry on her lips.

Razor sharp blades slashed at the woman's red clothed figure, shredding surrounding plants.

The aggressor had approached silently; giving her only a moment's notice. But by then it was too late…

Steel suddenly met flesh, gashing a hand as it darted toward the dagger in her belt in hope of self-defense…but hope was lost…her neck snapped backwards, and her head hit the hard, wet earth below…

Stubborn blue eyes remained open wide; her Elder nervous system still partially oblivious to the damage that would have killed a humani warrior. A blurry face looked down at her from above. The face was blurred, but she could make out a flaming red scalp, and a pair of glaring green eyes that bore into her skull. Web smiled faintly.

"Scathach," she breathed, "Daughter."

Scathach stamped one boot-clad foot onto her mother's chest.

"I didn't think I was still a part of _your _family_." _The Warrior spat the words out separately, loading each word with hatred. "I am no longer a daughter of yours. State your purpose, and be on your way or I will kill you here and now. You know I would." She gripped one long sword with both hands, directly over the woman's chest. "Speak now!"

"I-have come in seek of your undeserving forgiveness. I long for a daughter, Scathach. And I am sorry." The ninja mother's bright blue eyes were brimmed with tears as she choked out the words.

"You long for Aoife!"

"No…!"

"Why did you come here? You know that I am infinitely more powerful than you. I always was, Next Generation or not! You don't even want me! Now EXPLAIN!"

"Scathach, I speak the truth!" The words were desperate and frail. "I have come for you! I know you could destroy me before I even raised my own weapon! I have always known! It-was arrogance that ruined me. I am sorry -"

"YOU DON'T CALL ME DAUGHTER," Scathach roared, "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! AND I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STUPID EXCUSES! ICAN NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"

The Shadow threw down her sword on the ninja mother's body, leaping off of the body and disappearing into the bushes. The razor point sunk into the woman's shoulder. Blood the same vibrant color as her red sweater trickled down her arm. She remained lying on the mossy ground where Scathach had left her, eyes glazed over and soft red tears still glistening on her face. Her face was pale, and even more so in contrast to the crimson blood splashed across her forehead. She made a sudden movement, as if to sit up, but collapsed with a shuddering gasp.

"Scathach …please…I do love you."

The warrior tore through thick brambles as she raced through the shadowed forest. Tiny thorns scratched her arms, but she was oblivious to it, and she continued to bleed and run.

Scathach broke through the thicket and tumbled into a moonlit clearing, skidding on her palms.

Scathach's generation rarely ate or felt weary- she herself could not remember the last time that she had felt out of breath- but now she gasped breathlessly, her face nearly touching the earth as she shuddered. Never had the shadow been more terrified.

Her mother had returned at last.


End file.
